In Love and War
by superfan24
Summary: Hermione loses her world to the war. Will things ever be ok again? Oneshot.


She thought they were safe. Perhaps it was stupid in a time of war, but Hermione had believed, with all her heart, they were far removed. For Merlin's sake, she'd wiped their memories and sent them away. They had no idea they had a seventeen year old witch running about the country trying to defeat the darkest wizard of all time. She thought that had leant them the ultimate protection; she had signed up for the possibility of an untimely death. Her parents had not.

Harry wouldn't meet her eyes. He couldn't look at her. He blamed himself. How she wanted to blame him, too. Hermione wanted to hate him. She wanted to look in Harry Potter's eyes and hate him for taking her parents away from her. The Granger's were dentists. They were dead because their daughter was friends with the Chosen One. He wouldn't look at her because he blamed himself for their demise, but Hermione just wanted to look in his eyes and tell him it wasn't his fault; she didn't blame him. She couldn't.

They were gone, and so was he. The one person she needed more than any other on the planet had left her in a fit of misguided rage. She could hardly think.

Her parents were dead.

Ron was gone.

Harry wouldn't look her in the eyes.

The day would forever be etched in her mind. She knew when the war was over she wouldn't remember the bitter cold of that winter or how she had longed for a bath over a meal. She would remember waking up the day Ron left with a boulder in her stomach. She would remember how it was the brightest morning she had seen in a week. She would remember the fight dying in Harry's eyes as she begged to apparate quickly to her parent's flat in Australia, just to see they were ok because he understood she needed to feel she was still in control of something.

So they'd packed the campsite slowly, in hopes Ron would return. But he didn't. And they left. In the blink of an eye, Harry and Hermione were on her parent's street in Australia, with a story of selling magazines so she could knock on their door. And above any other, Hermione would remember those moments for the rest of her life. The silence of the street was etched in her brain. A lone plastic bag floating across the street. A car door slam. Harry's hand on the small of her back, guiding her quickly across the street. The three flights of stairs up to their flat, fresh paint signs adorning the walls.

The dark mark, etched into the door.

How the breathe abandoned her body. How her lungs stopped working. How Harry had opened the door. How their faces bore unmistakable signs of terror.

Without a word Hermione had turned and left the flat. She waited for Harry in the hallway as he looked for a sign of who had actually done the deed. It didn't matter to Hermione. All that mattered was they were gone. Her mother and father had fallen casualties in a war they were never meant to have any part of. Harry joined her minutes later, and in an exhalation of breath, they were in another forest like the one before. But now everything was different.

Because her parents were dead.

Because Ron was gone.

Because Harry wouldn't look her in the eyes.

He could only weakly mutter her name before she set about setting up camp. She didn't make a sound for the rest of the day. She kept her face blank, her eyes dead, because Harry had to think she was strong. Because they had both lost their parents to Voldemort now, and if Harry could go on, so could she.

That night before sleep took her, she cried. The next morning, Harry told her he was sorry. She could read it all on his face, of course. He blamed himself for it. But that was the only time he said it. Their conversations from then on revolved around horcruxes and the means with which to destroy them.

The nights were long and cold. Everyday Ron's absence hit her hard. Mornings were the worst. Every morning she had to remember he was gone. How she'd run into the night screaming his name with the wind and rain whipping against her face. His words of her supposed betrayal still rang in her ears.

_"I get it. You choose him."_

In a way, she supposed she did choose Harry. Because of the war. Because Hermione refused to let her careful planning be in vein. She'd wiped her parent's memories, sent them to a different country, and become one of the most wanted people in the country. And that couldn't all be for nothing.

Except now it had been for nothing. Now they were dead. They were no closer to finding any horcruxes. They were no closer to destroying the locket. Every day was a struggle to get Harry to focus on their hunt instead of Godric's Hollow. But she understood his need to go. And she relented. At least Hermione had known her parents. She'd had a life with them and memories to carry with her. For Harry, Godric's Hollow was a chance to meet his parents for the first time. To see where his journey began. Where Hermione's journey began, too. And Ron's. Their lives had all been an extension of that fateful night. In a way, she needed to see it, as well.

And of course they almost died. Of course. They were daft to believe the town would hold answers. Daft to believe it would inspire hope. Hermione could hardly believe in hope at all.

Because her parents were dead.

Because Ron was gone.

Because Harry wouldn't look her in the eyes.

And the next morning. She would remember every detail of that morning for the rest of her life. How she awoke to a bird singing, oblivious to the misfortunes of the world. How the crunch of the snow seemed to echo all around as someone approached the tent. How she hesitated for the briefest second before getting out of bed to investigate. Harry had her wand. She was defenseless. She would never let herself be taken unaware, though. No matter how futile, she would fight.

The light hit her eyes. The snap of a twig drew her eyes to Harry. And he looked at her. And for the first time in weeks, since Ron left and her parents died, he looked at her. But the glint of silver past his shoulder drew her away from the green she had longed for since that day. Her eyes traveled up to the hilt of the sword, to the large hand that held it, up the strong arm to his eyes. To the blue she had longed for as long as she had the green.

"Hermione…," he muttered, slowly approaching her. The sword in one hand, dragging on the forest floor behind him, the locket clutched firmly in the other. She noticed he was wet. Ice was forming in his hair. "Hermione I'm…I'm so bloody sorry."

"You left," she whispered, disbelief etched in her features. "I called for you…I…I needed you." Her emotions were running rampant through her eyes. She clutched the sides of her head, scrunching her hair as she closed her eyes to the onslaught of tears she could feel preparing to spill. The sword hit the ground, and suddenly after weeks, she was in his arms. And cried. Hermione cried as she had never cried before. Sobs consumed her tiny frame and she clutched to Ron to anchor her to life. To reality. To everything.

He must have lifted her and carried her inside, because the next thing Hermione knew, she was perched on the end of her bed in the tent, Ron kneeling between her legs. He tilted her face to meet his eyes and gently wiped her tears away as her body calmed.

"The second I left, I wanted to come back," Ron said when her breathing had returned to normal. She rested her palms on her thighs and Ron placed his hand over her own. "I tried, Hermione, I swear I did. But you never showed yourselves, and your enchantments are so bloody brilliant…," he trailed off. Try as he may, he couldn't excuse his behavior that night. Couldn't excuse what he'd put her through.

"Did he tell you?" Hermione asked, meeting his eyes. "Did he tell you about… about Australia?"

Ron gently brought his lips to her forehead, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as a tear slipped down his face. He nodded.

"I should have been with you," he said after a few minutes.

"We would never have gone if you hadn't left," she replied, turning her hands and lacing their fingers together. Hermione stared at their hands for a long time. In the back of her mind she wondered where Harry had gone. It didn't matter, but she wondered all the same. "You were gone and I couldn't think. And then they were gone and I couldn't breathe. And I just… I need to think. And I need to breathe. And I need you here."

She released his hands and edged herself up on the bed. The morning was surreal, like a dream. Hermione turned her back to Ron, curling in on herself. A moment past before she felt the bed dip with Ron's weight as he edged himself in beside her, his arm coming around her waist.

"I'll be here for the rest of forever, Hermione."

"I want so badly to be mad at you," she admitted as she leaned back into him. "I want to yell at you and throw things at you."

"Would it make you feel better?" Ron asked.

"Not really," Hermione sighed. "When you left, you said I'd chosen him."

"I'm a prat, Hermione," he replied. "I was wearing that bloody thing around my neck, but it's not an excuse. I turned everything all around inside my head."

"I was trying to make my sacrifices worth something. We promised Harry we would help him. He's a brother to me, Ron."

"And what am I?"

Hermione turned quickly in his arms, eyes blazing in the anger he was so used to seeing.

"You don't get to do that, Ronald. _You_ left _me_! _You_ turned your back on _me_! I was here, and he wouldn't look at me, and he could barely talk to me, and I was _dying_ inside. You don't get to come back here after weeks and demand anything of me!" The second she was done yelling she closed her eyes and laid her head back down on the pillow on her bed. She couldn't make herself leave his arms; he'd been gone too long and she missed him too much.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"I need everyone to stop telling me they're sorry."

"You are the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. You are the only person who can help me solve a problem without making me feel like a complete dolt. When you smile, I have to stop whatever I'm doing and just… look at you because nothing else is as beautiful or as important than you when you're happy. And when you're sad, I want to kill whoever made you cry… even if it's me. You're the person who calls me on my shit. You're smart and funny and gorgeous and I know I don't deserve you after everything I've done. You deserve more than-," she cut him off with her lips against his lightly.

"I don't want a speech about what I deserve, Ron," she whispered, pulling back softly. "I just want you to be here when I wake up. I just want you to be here, Ron. Because everything else about you is everything I want. And all I need right now is for you to hold me and tell me you're going to be here."

"Hermione, I'm never leaving you again. I swear to you. I regretted it enough the first time. I could never put myself through it again, let alone you. Because I love you, Hermione."

She was silent for a long time. It was a while until Ron realized she'd fallen asleep. He gently wiped the residual tears from her cheeks as she slept against him. It was a while before Harry ventured back into the tent. He moved around silently, trying not to disturb either of them before Ron broke the silence.

"She's sleeping," he said quietly. Harry moved to the head of the bead.

"Good. I know she hasn't been. Not well, anyways."

"She's going to be ok, I think."

"I know she will be," Harry replied, walking back to the kitchen area and leaving them alone again.

She slept for several hours, her first real sleep in weeks. She would remember every detail of those moments that afternoon. How a gentle heartbeat roused her from sleep. How a strong arm held her tightly. How a hand brushed the hair out of her face as she opened her eyes. How a small smile greeted her. How he was still _there_. How it hadn't been a dream.

Because her parents were dead.

But Ron was back, and she was in his arms.

And Harry would look her in the eyes again.

And in that instant, she knew somehow, everything was going to be ok. Even if it wasn't. Because they would make it ok. Because he was back.

"Ron…I love you, too."


End file.
